Aftershock - Part I
by chrmisha
Summary: After too many losses in the war, Harry is a bit fragile. When the one person he relies on most (Snape) is kidnapped, his life spirals away from him as his friends strive to keep him afloat. A/U, takes place post-war. I do not own Harry Potter or make any money from these stories.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: (1) I know a tiny bit about horses, but I am by no means an expert. If I've gotten something wrong, please feel free to PM me or write a comment and I'll be sure to fix it. (2) I do not own Harry Potter or make any money from these stories. All credit goes to JK Rowling.

 **CHAPTER 1**

"… _it may have escaped your notice, but life isn't fair. Even your blessed father knew that…"_

Harry shook his head, leaning forward as he worked, his muscles straining as he continued to shovel out the stall. He hadn't heard that voice in three years: even longer if you took into account the tone. Yet it still haunted his dreams-waking and sleeping.

He finished mucking out the pen, the smell of manure mingled with fresh hay and leather. It was a unique scent, one he'd only become accustomed to well after Hogwarts. It was one of the few things that still brought him a measure of comfort, bittersweet as it was.

Sighing, he finished his barn chores, checking to see that Penny was happily and safety grazing in the pasture. The chicken coop had been cleaned, eggs collected, and waiting in a basket to be taken up to the manor. Bessie had been milked and fed. He stopped by to visit Sir Francis Bacon (aka Francie), scratching her behind the ears as she snorted at him before rolling over for a belly rub.

Picking up the basket of eggs and the pail of fresh milk, he headed back up the path. His morning routine gave him purpose-a purpose he otherwise seemed to lack. He'd long since gotten the old manor house in shape. It hadn't needed that much work anyway; the older couple who'd sold it to him had kept it up relatively well.

He'd never imagined owning a hobby farm. It hadn't been a dream of his by any means. He knew nothing about farm animals, hadn't seen them but in books or powdered as potions ingredients. But he'd fallen in love with the estate-the rolling hills, the stream that bisected the property, the lovely manor house. It had been Sev who'd finally convinced him to buy it. "After all you've done, Potter, you're afraid of a few chickens, a pig, and a horse?"

And so, Harry had seen the aging witch and wizard off with promises to care for their animals, and assurances they could visit anytime. He got to work updating the manor to his tastes, inviting his friends to visit-and to live at times when they were between places of their own.

It had been quite fun entertaining the friends of his who had come and gone. Luna, with her eccentric flair for decorating: the strange talking goat paintings still lined his halls and her tinkling laughter echoed in the chaos of their arrangement. Dean, who, along with his Muggle girlfriend and his grandmother, had lived there for a time. Neville, ever helpful in getting his vegetable gardens started and fruit trees planted. Severus had planted his own gardens for potions ingredients. Harry hadn't touched those in all the time Sev had been gone, afraid he'd make some mistake with the plants that had since gone wild.

Then there were the more constant boarders-Ron and Hermione, of course. Harry knew that they stayed not because they couldn't get a place of their own, but because they worried about him. They moved in after Sev had gone missing and hadn't left since. He was immensely grateful for them. He didn't know if he'd have made it through Severus's disappearance without them. They'd pulled him back from the brink several times, even if they didn't know it.

Draco Malfoy stopped by about once or twice a week now-bringing wines from around the world, and gracing them all with his acerbic wit and tall tales. Draco had been the biggest surprise of all, switching sides a few years after school and coming over to their side, picking up where Sev had left off after he was no longer able to act the spy. And Draco had sat vigil with Harry the first few months after Severus's disappearance, along with Ron and Hermione. They'd all come to a sort of understanding in that time, as they all had the same objective-finding Snape, for Snape's sake, as well as for Harry's.

Hannah Abbott lived here as well, along with her younger sister, Calista. She and her sister had been orphaned in the war. Calista, at age 10, was full of a love for life, having been too young to remember much about the war. She'd be heading off to Hogwarts in the fall and she was beyond excited. Ernie McMillian and Hannah had become an item and so Ernie was at the manor more often than not as well, becoming a surrogate big brother/father figure to Calista, along with Harry himself.

The other Weasleys stopped by at regular, though unpredictable, intervals. Headmaster McGonagall and Professor Flitwick visited often, along with Professor Hooch on occasion, who never missed an opportunity to challenge him to a quick pick-up match of Quidditch.

And then there was Hagrid, Harry thought with a smile. Harry'd had to enchant his furniture especially to handle the half-giant's bulk, which seemed to triple when the man had been drinking. As a housewarming gift, Hagrid had brought him a cow. A cow, of all things! "Yer can't have a farm without a cow!" he had informed Harry. "All the milk ya could ever want, see?" he had said, squirting the cream-colored liquid all over Harry's shoes. Harry shook his head at the memory of having to come up with housing for the beast with no notice. Now "Bessie," as Sev had fondly named her, was one more member of the family, and Harry had indeed become grateful for the daily doses of fresh milk and cream.

The animals and the house guests all made for a routine that kept Harry's mind off other, more depressing thoughts. At least, most of the time.

Harry made his way inside, set down the eggs and milk, and started breakfast. He could have done it using magic, but there was something to be said for using one's hands instead of a wand. And so he cracked eggs and whisked them. He chopped onions, peppers, mushrooms, and chives and added them to the glass bowl. He took down the spices and, as he added them, their scent went straight from his nose to his heart, which clenched in memory.

Sev, standing beside him at the counter, using a mortar and pestle to grind the herbs that would become Harry's cooking spices. Harry took a deep breath, pushing the memory aside. He set the oven and slid the dish inside. Then he went about setting the table for breakfast.

"Morning," Hermione said, stepping inside the cavernous room, stretching and yawning simultaneously. "Sleep well?" She took the silverware from him and began laying out the place settings. Harry went back to the cupboard to get the glasses.

Harry shrugged. "The usual."

Hermione paused, looking at him more closely. "Bad dreams?" she asked.

"Bad memories, more like," Harry muttered. Seeing her brow furrow, and knowing a lecture would follow on how he needed to take better care of himself, he interjected, "What are your plans for the day?"

"Thought we might go into Hogsmeade for our anniversary," Ron said, sidling up to Hermione and kissing her on the cheek. Hermione smiled and leaned into him.

"Ah," Harry said, happy for them. "One year, right?"

"Yep," Ron said, helping himself to a piece of toast.

"Ron," Hermione scolded. "Wait for breakfast!"

Ron shrugged. "Harry," he said, and Harry stilled, knowing that tone of voice. The tone that meant Ron was going to say something Harry probably wouldn't like. "Ginny's gonna be in town next week. The Holyhead Harpies are playing in England. I thought maybe…"

"Ron," Harry said, exasperation thick in his voice. "She's dating Victor Krum, remember?"

"Well, I know, but…" Ron began.

"We tried," Harry said. "We really did," Harry picked up a cloth and started scrubbing at the counter unnecessarily. "We just weren't meant to be, I guess." Harry knew from experience that they were exchanging a glance behind his back.

"We just want you to be happy, mate," Ron said.

"Yeah, well," Harry spat, "unless you can bring back the dead…"

"Harry," Hermione beseeched, "we don't know that he's dead."

"We don't know that he isn't," Harry said, throwing the rag in the sink and turning around, his hands fisted at his side. "He would have contacted someone if he was alive. He wouldn't have left us all hanging, left us-ME-to wonder if he…"

Harry turned away, bracing his arms on the sink, looking out over land that stretched endlessly before him.

He felt an arm snake around his waist and a bushy head come to rest on his shoulder. "He wouldn't have wanted this for you, Harry. He would have wanted…"

"Who knows what he would have wanted, Hermione," Harry snapped, shrugging her off. "He's not here to tell us." Harry spun on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen.

"Harry…" Hermione called after his retreating back.

"Let him go, 'mione," Ron said.

* * *

Harry made his way to the paddock, where Penny, seeing him there, nickered and headed his way.

"Sorry, girl, I don't have anything for you," Harry said, reaching out to stroke her neck.

Penny nudged him with her muzzle, sniffing. He raised his other hand, showing her it was empty. She lipped it anyway. Harry laughed despite himself.

"That tickles," he breathed.

He scratched her behind the ear, one of her favorite spots, and she tilted her head, leaning into his touch.

Harry closed his eyes, tipping his face back to absorb the sun.

" _She's an overgrown pony," Sev had said with mocking derision._

" _Well," Harry had replied, "she's MY overgrown pony."_

 _Sev had chuckled. "That she is," the older man had observed as Penny had tossed her tail and cantered in a circle, Harry perched atop her, learning how to sit in a saddle and ride._

Harry shook himself, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. He bounced his fist on the split rail fence, chagrined. Three years. It had been three years and still he mourned for the man as if it was yesterday.

Hannah, who was already a healer at St. Mungo's, and was training to be a mind healer as well, said that cases like this were the hardest because there was no closure. No answers. No resolution. And that was the problem, wasn't it?

Harry didn't know what had happened to the man. All evidence pointed toward a kidnapping. What few witnesses there were had reported shouts, a scuffle, some popping noises, and then… nothing. Nothing but Severus's cloak, which had been found torn, bloodied, and crumpled on the ground.

The only reasonable explanation was that Severus had been abducted by rogue Death Eaters, left over after the battle had been won, seeking revenge for their lost loved ones, or perhaps hoping to continue the campaign of terror, even in Voldemort's absence.

In some ways, Harry hoped the wizard was dead. Because the alternative, the alternative… Harry put his fist in his mouth, biting down. The alternative was unbearable.

The alternative was the images that kept Harry awake at night: visions of Severus locked in a dungeon somewhere, beaten, bloodied, cursed, starving. The thought of such a strong proud man being broken was more than Harry could take. He swore, turned away, and walked blindly into a wall of muscle.

"What the…" Harry cursed, stumbling backward.

"Feeling sorry for yourself, Potter?" Draco drawled.

"Bugger off," Harry cursed.

"Some respect, Potter, is due to the name of Malf…"

Potter shoved Draco backward, hard, and made to stalk off.

"Whoa," Draco called, running backward to keep in front of Potter, finally putting a hand out to stop him.

Harry raised his head, finally meeting Draco's gaze.

"Merlin," Draco breathed. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Harry spat out. "Nothing at all."

He tried to step around Draco, but the man stepped in front of him again.

"Unless you have news, Draco, now is not a good time."

"I can see that," the blond wizard said.

The two stood, not moving. Harry's head was bowed, his breathing ragged.

Finally, Draco spoke. "Listen," he said, raking a hand through his hair. "It's not my place to tell you how to live your life…"

"No, it isn't," Harry said, stepping around him.

Draco grabbed Harry's arm and took a deep breath. "He wouldn't approve, you know. He had no tolerance for…" Draco swept his other hand in a wide arc, "this kind of thing. Waiting. Pining."

Harry snorted. He knew that much to be true.

"We are still looking, you know," Draco said, dropping his hand. "The Aurors' office hasn't given up."

"It's been three years," Harry said scornfully. "If they haven't found him by now, they aren't going to."

"There's no body, Potter. And until there is, we'll keep looking." Draco cleared his throat. " _I_ will keep looking." Draco's gaze hardened. "He meant something to me, too," he added quietly.

Harry turned away. Sev hadn't just meant something to Harry, he'd meant _everything_ to him. Without replying, Harry nodded.

"Come on," Draco said, "they're waiting for us at breakfast."

Harry had long since lost his appetite, but he followed Draco anyway. He was, after all, the host of the manor.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Dark and damp and musty. Or was it moldy? Rotting even. The scent made the emaciated wizard want to retch. Of course there was nothing in his stomach to rid himself of. He couldn't remember the last time there had been.

He rubbed at his wrists. The shackles had been removed as he'd become too weak to fight. He leaned his head back against the stone wall, wondering how much longer he could survive this.

He'd long given up on the hope of wresting away one of his captor's wands. He'd long given up hope of just about anything. He'd have let go a while ago, let death's embrace release him from this hell, save for one thing. _Harry_ _Potter_.

Harry wouldn't want that. Potter would want him to fight. Even that didn't drive his will to survive. What did was the thought that Harry had survived everything he had- every awful, horrible, trying thing that had been thrown at him.

And because of that, Harry was fragile. Not in body so much as in mind. Severus had come to realize that over the months they'd spent training together-Potter, Draco, and himself-preparing to defeat the Dark Lord.

Training had been rigorous and difficult, fraught with injuries and setbacks. Draco had whinged on many occasions, ready to throw up his hands in defeat and walk away, but Potter pushed on, single-mindedly focused and determined. Potter never complained.

Thinking back, that should have been a sign. Harry held to his purpose as if his life depended on it, when in reality, it was his sanity that had depended on it. But no one knew that then, least of all him.

Harry had power, yes, more than any wizard he knew, save for Dumbledore perhaps. But it was wild, untamed, undisciplined power. It wasn't grounded, not in the least. And try as Severus might, he found it impossible to ground it, due to the wasteland that had become the young man's mind.

Some people were able to bounce back, repeatedly, from life's bumps and bruises. And Potter had, in body, but his spirit, his soul, had suffered. If Severus knew anything, he knew that Harry would never rest until Severus was found, dead or alive.

And in the meantime? The boy, nay man now, would punish himself for his perceived failure of letting Severus be kidnapped, even though Harry had had nothing to do with it. Harry would have willingly taken his place, he knew: stupid, selfless idiot that he was. Loath to admit it to himself, if the roles were reversed-if Harry had been the one taken-Severus imagined that he'd act no differently. And the desolation that swept through him at the thought of it left him barely able to breathe.

One of the reasons he'd been able to hang on as long as he had was because he knew Harry was safe and surrounded by friends. His captors had seen to mocking him with that knowledge, constantly taunting him with pictures and news stories, telling him that Potter was happy now, happy to have the traitor removed from his life.

In his darkest moments, Severus sometimes wondered if that was true but, upon further reflection, he knew Harry didn't have it in him to hate, much less abandon a friend.

And so he held on. Hoping, scheming-however fruitless it was-to find a way back to the man who, he knew more surely than he knew anything, would never stop looking for him, and would never live his life until Severus was found.

* * *

Love was an ironic thing, Harry thought, drenched in sweat and tangled in his sheets. He'd never thought much about it before the war and, during it, he was too consumed with trying to defeat Voldemort to give it much heed.

But after, in those quiet moments, as he contemplated his future, it had a sort of appeal, a shelter-from-the-storm kind of quality as the Wizarding world clamored for their savior to remain in the limelight, to stick around for their gratification.

Only his closest friends and Sev had known how much that bothered him. Draco seemed to glory in all the attention, and Harry didn't begrudge him that, but it was not what he wanted. He preferred to retire in anonymity, to enjoy a normal, unfettered life, or as much of one as he could.

Everyone expected him to join the Ministry, to become an Auror and work his way up the ranks to Minister of Magic. But Harry wanted nothing more to do with stress and worry and wars.

He didn't know what his future held but, at least for a while, he wanted a break. He wanted to hold his friends close. He wanted to sleep without nightmares. And, as it turned out, Sev had wanted the same things.

How many nights had they sat by the fire, drinking a glass of wine, each lost in their own thoughts or reading a book? Not even speaking, for they didn't need words.

There was comfort in knowing that someone else cared that you existed, knew all your secrets, tolerated your idiosyncrasies. Someone who wouldn't flinch if you cried over a fallen comrade, or scold you for laughing in the midst of despair. Someone who appreciated your sense of humor. Someone whom you could just be yourself with. Sev had been all those things to him and more.

Sev, Professor Snape to him then, had started tutoring him in secret in Harry's seventh year, after Dumbledore had died. That first meeting wasn't easy; there was a lot of shouting, threats, curses even, before both men came to an understanding of both the love and betrayal that was Albus Dumbledore.

The words "for the greater good" took on a new meaning. Yet, somehow, they'd persevered. After Hogwarts, after Sev had escaped the Dark Lord's clutches for being the traitor that he was and had a price tag on his head nearly as high as Harry's, they'd gone into hiding together and had been nearly inseparable.

For the next three years they trained, day and night. It started out as a mentorship but, as Harry's skills and knowledge grew, as well as his self-confidence and maturity, it became a match of equals. Draco joined them shortly afterward, and two became three.

The threesome worked tirelessly together, Draco now the spy, until the time was right. And when that time came, the threesome and The Order of the Phoenix came together, attacked, won.

Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort. The Death Eaters scattered. Awards were given. The reconstruction phase of post-war living began. And Harry and Sev, once again, went into hiding. Not so much for their own safety as for their own sanity. Severus Snape was 42 years old at the time, and Harry was 24, although he felt much older.

In all that time, Harry had come to trust Sev with his life. He'd come to rely on him too, for more than just his skills and knowledge, but as a confidant. A friend. Never more. Certainly not a lover as some had suggested.

Instead, there's was a relationship built on mutual trust and understanding. And although they were more like equals, Harry still thought of Sev a bit like a father figure; fierce, caring, and protective. Sev always looked out for Harry's interests before his own, and always took the time to make sure that Harry was faring well. To be sure, the man could be grouchy, especially when working on a particularly taxing potion. But the wizard always made time for him.

Sev's reserved nature had grown on Harry as well. As an adult, Harry could see that the wizard disdained idle chatter. He preferred to save his words for subjects and people he found important and relevant. He had no time for the mundane. Harry imagined that a life filled with subterfuge, as Severus's had been, was safer lived with fewer inanities to remember, fewer traps to get caught in. Or perhaps, given the gravity of Sev's existence, such banalities were too trivial to waste time on.

And Sev had been there for him after the war when others had not. He didn't begrudge Hermione or Ron in the least. Hermione had gone to Australia to reunite with her parents, and Ron had spent time with his family, mourning the loss of Fred. Harry had been set adrift, lost in a sea of death, destruction, and a loss of purpose in life. He thought he should have been happy with Voldemort's demise, and indeed he was. And yet, somehow, his life felt empty, directionless.

It was Sev who had come round to check on him, who had taken the time to talk to him, to set him to rights. It was Sev who spent his evenings in the library with Potter, drinking wine, reading poetry, playing chess if Harry was so inclined. It was Sev who had helped him with the purchase of the estate and taught him how to care for the animals, the manor, and the land. And it was Sev who was there for him when he awoke from nightmares or was possessed by insomnia. Sev didn't leave him: not like the others adult figures in his life had, not like his dad or Sirius or Remus or Dumbledore. Sev had been the one constant in his adult life-until he, too, had been taken away. It was too many losses for one person to bear.

* * *

Severus jerked awake, crying out in a combination of pleasure and pain. His ankle was broken, hence the pain. But the dream he had was a consolation prize, if there was one to be had. It featured Harry, of course, but it wasn't the frowning, scolding, judging dreams he sometimes had. Not the "how could you leave me" dreams, but something else. Something more pleasant, if only for the lack of such feelings in such a long time.

Harry had found him and wrapped him in strong, protective arms. He had traced a finger down the new scar on Severus's face, gained while in captivity: acceptance and pride all wrapped together. And like a man moments from death, Severus had clung to him. Clung to him like a lifeline, a beacon in the storm.

Was Severus so far gone that any gentle human touch could be craved? Theirs had not been a relationship filled with soft touches, except perhaps after particularly bad nightmares. Theirs was a companionship born of long academic discussions as they cooled down their horses after a hard ride, of time spent dining together discussing the news of the day, of friendly banter after a few drinks in the evening, of sleepless nights spent in front of the fire, silent but consoling for their mutual presence.

Tears of longing pricked at the back of Severus's eyes, but he forced them away. Alone in his dank, putrid cell, he wrapped his arms around himself and willed himself back into the dream, into Harry's welcoming arms, wishing he could give the man and himself that easy companionship once more.

* * *

Brush in hand, Harry ran the bristles along Penny's flanks. She loved to be brushed. And scratched. And hosed down. And pretty much anything Harry did to her.

" _Attention whore," Sev had called her._

" _Look who's talking," Harry had replied. It was no secret, after all, that Sev was gay, and that, on certain occasions, he would disappear for the day, returning looking sated and settled and disinclined to discuss his absence._

 _Sev had only raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what you're missing, Potter."_

 _Harry had laughed. Sev called him 'Potter' whenever they were around others, or when they bantered. But when they were alone, or the subject was serious, he called him 'Harry'._

Harry missed the sound of his name in the man's rich, baritone voice. The way he swirled the word in his mouth like a fine wine before releasing it, as if reluctant to let such a precious word go. If only he could hear his name on the man's lips one more time, Harry thought. But he knew that once would never be enough.

He shook his head and sighed.

"Ya gonna ride today?" Ron asked, finding Harry in the stables.

This was as familiar a routine as feeding the animals and milking Bessie twice a day.

"Maybe," Harry replied, though they both knew he wouldn't.

"Nice day for it," Ron said.

Harry nodded.

"Why do they call brown horses 'bay'?" Ron asked, kicking at some loose hay on the floor.

"No idea," Harry said, knowing that Sev would have known the reason. Usually, the stable was the one place people didn't bother him too much. He came here to be alone. To tend the animals and let nature soothe him as best it could.

"We were thinking about going out tonight," Ron began.

"No."

"Harry, you can't stay locked up here forever." When Harry didn't respond, he continued. "You're a wizard, Harry. If any news arrives, they'll find you, wherever you are."

Harry glanced up to see the pity in Ron's expression and turned away. "You go, have fun. I'll be fine."

Sighing in defeat, Ron turned to leave. "If you change your mind…"

"I'll know where to find you," Harry said and returned his attention to Penny. The mare had resumed munching on her pile of hay.

"I know they mean well," Harry muttered to his horse. "I know they worry. It's just… I wouldn't even have you, or any of this," Harry said, gesturing around him, "if it weren't for Sev. And now," Harry said, a lump in his throat, "it's all I have. This, and the memory of his company." And, dammit, it wasn't enough.

He had looked for Sev after he'd been kidnapped, looked high and low. He wasn't an Auror but, due to his name, he went along on some of the missions. Yet they'd never found anything-not even a trace. Nor was there a note sent to the Ministry or the _Daily Prophet,_ bragging of their deed, or making demands. There had been a struggle, and he had vanished, and that was all anyone knew.

He finished brushing Penny and checking her hooves, then walked her to the pasture to graze. He passed her leather saddle and all the tack but didn't even glance at it. He couldn't imagine riding without Sev.

" _Sit up straight in the saddle, Potter."_

" _I am," Harry had said._

 _Sev had given him that look, the one that said 'Are you daft or just trying to annoy me?'_

 _Harry had shifted, trying his best to hold his seat properly._

" _Loosen up on the reins, boy._

" _Relax and let yourself feel her beneath you. Feel how she moves. That's it._

" _Guide with your thighs, there you go. See how easy that was?"_

 _Slowly, Harry had learned. It had taken weeks, months, but he had learned. He would never be the master horseman that Sev was. But he could stay in the saddle without falling off, and he was pretty proud of that._

 _To see Sev on his steed was a sight to behold. He looked regal and ribald all at the same time. Harry had smiled to think the man could grace the cover of the Muggle romances his aunt read and not be out of place. He'd never told Sev that, of course. But the man was beautiful to watch, his stallion carving up the ground beneath them as they galloped, Sev in complete control of the animal. Harry had never dared to ride Snape's stallion. The beast was finicky and tricky, and Harry had no desire to be thrown off. Penny was sweet and easy to please, and Harry was long past the days where he felt he needed to prove himself._

" _You look like I feel when I ride a broom," Harry had told him one day._

" _Meaning?" Sev had drawled._

" _Wild and free and in your element. Like you have complete control and could do anything. And like nothing in the world could make you happier."_

 _Sev had given Harry a rare smile. "You could say that," he admitted. "Horses have always been a secret pleasure of mine."_

 _Harry hadn't known that and was glad that, although he wasn't nearly as proficient a rider as Sev, they could at least enjoy this together. Riding through the hills, the sunlight on their faces. They didn't need to talk, to explain, to justify anything. That was one of the things Harry enjoyed most about the man. He didn't require constant chitchat to fill up the silent spaces._

Harry had thought, on occasion, about selling the estate. As much as he loved it, it was a constant reminder of the wizard that had gone missing. And yet, as much as he couldn't ride his horse, he couldn't part with the manor or the lands. They held as many memories as they did hope, for in his heart Harry knew that selling this place would be admitting that Sev was never coming back. And Harry just couldn't do that. That was one of the reasons he still paid the boarding fees each month for Severus's stallion. So that if, _when_ , Sev came back, his beloved horse would be waiting for him.

* * *

One of his jailers arrived in the early morning. The only woman: the girlfriend of one of the men. There were three people in all, and they rotated in and out. The boyfriend was the cruelest, though the others weren't pleasant by any means. But this morning, the woman had brought him a large breakfast, and that was odd. The smell of food was both delicious and nauseating and he wondered if it was a trick.

She looked at him, frowned, and backed out of the cell. She used to torment him, but in recent weeks she'd been quiet, reserved. He could hear her fighting with the other two more and more, and on occasion, she'd have bruises on her face. He had no trouble guessing who those were from.

He ate what he could, pushed aside the rest, and drifted into a light slumber. It was never safe to sleep too deeply, for he didn't want to get caught off guard.

When the cell opened again in the late afternoon, he knew something was amiss. He was never given more than one meal a day, and there usually only was the one meal a day. If that. Sometimes it was one meal every three days. Or four. Sometimes he lost count.

The expression on the man's face was livid, and he smelled strongly of alcohol. The man started shouting incoherent things about corrupting his girlfriend, accusing Severus of sleeping with her, and more things he'd been unable to understand as the man's speech slurred.

But Severus had no trouble remembering the beating, the pain, the sickening crack of his back breaking, the loss of feeling in his legs, and dark puddle pooling on the ground between his legs that he hadn't felt being released. By the time his tormentor was done with him, Severus knew it was over. He wouldn't live through this, couldn't live through this.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

And then his world faded to black.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Draco was at Malfoy Manor early on a Monday morning, preparing for work. He had been promoted to Senior Auror and had started going in an hour early to prepare for the day. He was enjoying his new found status. He liked the way the junior Aurors looked up to him, awed by his fame and position and seemingly infinite knowledge. Just as he finished tying his tie, a barn owl perched outside his kitchen window, hooting loudly. He didn't recognize the bird. Frowning, he took the scroll of parchment from the bird's leg and unfurled it.

As Draco read, his hands began to shake and sweat beaded his forehead.

 _D-_

 _I dictate this missive_

 _In hopes you'll agree_

 _That these sentiments I send_

 _Come directly from me._

 _I require your assistance_

 _Bring W &G if you must_

 _But I have one request_

 _In which you must trust._

 _I must insist that you not_

 _Share this knowledge with P_

 _Or anyone else,_

 _Lest I not be set free._

 _Your urgent arrival_

 _Is needed, no swords_

 _Use the following key_

 _To get through the wards._

 _If you believe this is me_

 _Take this portkey and come_

 _Brings lots of potions_

 _And plenty of rum._

 _For the stories I tell_

 _Are grim at the best_

 _But until you are here_

 _I can't tell you the rest._

 _Do make great haste_

 _Come this night at eight_

 _Much longer than that_

 _And it may be too late._

 _-KEY-_

 _The name that P called me_

 _To my great chagrin,_

 _The part that G of F/G lost_

 _My accidental sin._

 _The voice in the matches_

 _In years one through three._

 _The first three in the name_

 _Of the golden trio G._

 _And last, but not least,_

 _The thing we three had_

 _Every night before sundown_

 _You, me, and the lad._

Cursing loudly, he scratched out a quick a note to Granger, who had the cooler head of the two. He sent it using the barn owl, as Potter would recognize Draco's bird. After fire-calling the Ministry telling them he needed the day off, he paced anxiously, a million thoughts racing through his head, his gut churning.

* * *

Hermione was helping Harry clean up the breakfast dishes when a siren went off. Everyone in the room looked up and Harry frowned.

"Not too often we get an unknown owl," Harry commented.

"Might just be the _Daily Prophet,_ mate. Maybe that old one that always came finally kicked the bucket."

"Ron," Hermione scolded as Ron let the barn owl in.

He detached the scroll and handed it to Hermione. "Looks like it's for you."

Hermione unrolled the scroll, not bothering to hide it from view. There were only four words: _For Your Eyes Only_.

Harry glanced over. "Secret admirer, then?"

Ron quickly looked.

"It might be about work," she said. "Maybe I should take this privately."

"That's not a Ministry owl," Ron observed.

Hermione waved her wand. It didn't seem to be cursed. "Just give me a minute," she said, getting up from her chair and stepping outside the room, immediately glad she did once she read its content.

 _Granger,_

 _I received a message. It is urgent you and Weasley come to the Malfoy Manor at once. DO NOT TELL POTTER! Make some excuse. Come immediately._

 _-Draco_

Draco had never written to her before, much less summoned her. She had to think fast. If she spent too long, Ron and Harry would get suspicious. She returned to the room with a sigh.

"Ron," she said, "we are needed at the Ministry immediately."

Hermione glanced pointedly at Harry, who looked back, questioning.

"What's happened?" Ron said, jumping to his feet.

"Nothing," she hedged, looking sympathetically at Harry again.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "Well," Hermione hedged, "I really shouldn't tell you… but I know how much you hate surprises…" Hermione glanced back at Ron.

Releasing her breath in defeat, she said quickly, "They want to plan a surprise party for you. Since your birthday is next week already, they are in a bit of a hurry." As they had several friends and acquaintances working at the Ministry these days, she didn't need to specify who, precisely, she was referring to.

Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

"Do you want me to get them to try and scrap the idea, mate?" Ron asked.

"Please," Harry said.

"Well," Hermione said, straightening her shoulders. "I'll tell them we already have plans for you." Glancing to Ron, she said, "We'd better get there before they do something we can't undo."

"Right-o," Ron said. "After you." He walked towards the fireplace.

"Do you mind if we Apparate, Ron? My stomach is feeling a bit off this morning." She hoped this didn't sound too odd. Was spinning in a fireplace really that much worse than being sucked into the compressing tube of Apparition? For emphasis, she put her hand over her mid-section. "I don't think I can take the spinning."

Ron shrugged and headed for the front door. "See ya," Ron called over his shoulder to Harry.

"See you this evening, Harry," Hermione said, kissing him on the cheek before she left as she did every morning.

Ron put an arm around Hermione as they walked to the edge of the property, past the wards, where they could Apparate.

When they were far enough from the house, Hermione whispered, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," Ron declared.

They crossed the threshold of the wards. "Then hold on tight, we aren't going to the Ministry."

A look of confusion crossed Ron's face as Hermione Apparated them to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

"Why are we here?" Ron burst out, seeing the gates of the Malfoy estate.

"No idea, but Draco said it was urgent," Hermione reported.

As they stepped inside the wards, Draco ran toward them, his face pale and drawn.

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. Draco did NOT run to greet guests; he waited in repose for them to acknowledge his superiority and deigned only to grant them permission to speak when he was good and ready.

"Come inside," he said, waving them forward. "It's urgent." He turned and rushed back toward the house. Startled, Hermione and Ron quickened their pace to follow him.

Draco led them into the library in the back, where he quickly shut and warded the door. He put a silencing charm on the room as well. Then be directed them to a long wooden table.

"What's going on?" Ron demanded.

"I received this about thirty minutes ago," Draco said, shoving the parchment toward them.

Hermione and Ron bent over it, reading. Hermione finished first, glancing up at Draco, her hand to her heart. "Is it him?" she asked.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Severus," Hermione breathed.

Ron's eyes widened. "Snape sent this? He's alive?"

Draco twisted his hands together and resumed pacing. "I'd like to think it's him," Draco muttered.

"You think it might be a trap?" Hermione whispered.

"I don't know," Draco said, running his hand through his hair. "It sounds like him. And the poetry makes sense." At Hermione and Ron's confused stares, Draco added, "He loved to read poetry. Few people knew that about him. Potter and I discovered it when we were training with him."

"Why would he dictate it?" Ron asked. "Why not write it himself?"

Instead of answering, Draco pointed to the parchment. "Did you figure out the key yet?"

"No," Hermione said, pulling the parchment closer. "Did you?"

Draco nodded. "I want to see if you get the same answer I did."

"Alright," Hermione said. She and Ron bent over the parchment. "Let's read it at again first, to see if there's any pattern."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

"Alright," Hermione said. She and Ron bent over the parchment. "Let's read it at again first, to see if there's any pattern."

" _D-"_ Hermione began. "That's Draco, obviously," she stated, and Ron nodded his agreement.

" _I dictate this missive, In hopes you'll agree, That these sentiments I send, Come directly from me."_

"Why can't he write the letter himself?" Ron asked again. Hermione shook her head and continued.

" _I require your assistance, Bring W &G if you must…"_

"Weasley, Granger," Ron stated.

" _But I have one request, In which you must trust. I must insist that you not, Share this knowledge with P…"_

"Potter, obviously," Ron interjected.

" _Or anyone else, Lest I not be set free."_

"Which means it could be a trap," Ron said.

"Or," Hermione said, "for some reason, he doesn't want others to know he's alive."

" _Your urgent arrival, Is needed, no swords, Use the following key, To get through the wards."_

"No swords?" Ron questioned.

"I think he just means that no force will be necessary. That the key to the wards will get us in."

" _If you believe this is me, Take this portkey and come, Brings lots of potions, And plenty of rum."_

"Why potions?" Ron asked. Hermione shook her head.

" _For the stories I tell, Are grim at the best, But until you are here, I can't tell you the rest."_

"That's clear enough," Hermione commented.

" _Do make great haste, Come this night at eight, Much longer than that, And it may be too late."_

Well," Ron said, "that sounds ominous. What happens if we don't come tonight?"

"I don't know," Hermione muttered, still studying the poem. "Let's go through the key."

" _The name that P called me, to my great chagrin_."

"He must mean Harry," Ron said.

"I assume so," Hermione responded, "and Harry called him 'Sev'." Hermione pulled quill and parchment from her bag and wrote down SEV.

" _The part that G of F/G lost, my accidental sin_ ," she went on.

"G for Granger again?" Ron asked.

"I don't think so. This G is a part of F/G. And why the slash? Not initials then?" Hermione thought aloud.

"F and G…," Ron repeated. "F and G… Fred and George!" Ron shouted. "And George lost his ear! Snape hexed it off. But he wasn't aiming for George, he was aiming for a Death Eater. So it was an accident!"

"Very good, Ron," Hermione praised and wrote EAR next on the parchment.

" _The voice in the matches in years one through three_ ," Hermione pondered. "Years one through three of what? The war? Hogwarts?"

"Matches…" Ron said. "I bet that refers to Quidditch."

"So Hogwarts then," Hermione reasoned. "But the voice…"

"The Quidditch commentator," Ron said. "Lee Jordan!"

Hermione looked skeptical. "Hmm, I'm not sure."

"Just write it down for now," Ron instructed.

Hermione added LEE JORDAN below the other two entries.

" _The first three in the name of the golden trio G_ …"

"That's you," Ron said.

"I guess so," Hermione said, "since Professor Snape always called us the Golden Trio, and I am the only one with the letter G in my name." Hermione raised the quill. "But the first three letters of my first name or last name?"

"Well," Ron reasoned, "he only said FIRST three, so let's try the first name."

"Ok," Hermione agreed, adding HER below the last entry before continuing. " _And last but not least, the thing we three had, every night before sundown, you, me, and the lad_."

Hermione glanced up at Draco, who was sitting in front of a chair near the fireplace, his head in his hands. "He was writing this to you, Draco, so I assume he means you, him, and Harry?"

"I think so," Draco conceded.

"And what did you have every night before sundown?"

"Tea," Draco responded despondently. "We had tea."

Obediently, Hermione wrote down TEA. Together, she and Ron studied the words.

"See any patterns?" Hermione asked.

"Well, all the words are three letters, except Lee Jordan. And, Snape uses the word 'three' a bunch in the key."

Hermione looked back and counted. "Good catch, Ron."

"So," Ron says, picking up the quill, "I think we can cross off JORDAN," he said, running a line the last name. "That leaves…"

SEV

EAR

LEE

HER

TEA

"Sev-ear-lee…" Ron sounded out. "Sev-ear-lee-her-tea…"

Hermione gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

Ron turned to her. "What?"

"SEVERELY HURT." Hermione glanced to Draco for confirmation.

Draco got up from the chair and came back to the table. "That's what I got, too," he confirmed. "Which could explain why he dictated the letter, instead of writing it himself, why we must bring potions, and why we must come soon-why tomorrow could be too late."

The three of them stared at each other in silence, matching grim expressions on their faces.

* * *

"I think we should bring Hannah," Ron reiterated.

"But he said only us three," Hermione protested.

"He also said he was severely hurt. If he's too hurt to write, Hermione, he's probably hurt in other ways. We might need her," Ron insisted.

Draco cleared his throat. "I agree with Ron," Draco stated. "If he is severely injured, we are going to need a healer, and we can trust Abbott. If it's a trap, she's another person who can stand with us."

"Or fall with us," Hermione reminded him.

"Weasley and I are Aurors," Draco said. "And all of us fought in the war."

"But what if… what if…" Hermione hesitated, chewing on her lip.

"What is it, Granger?" Draco asked impatiently.

"What if the trap isn't for us?" Hermione said. "What if the trap is for Harry? I mean, think about it. If we go and are all captured or killed, Harry will have no one. Maybe it's a way to get Harry alone."

Ron looked at Hermione in horror.

Draco curled his hands into fists. "As much as I hate to admit it, you have a good point. We'll need to either get Harry to a safe house, or we'll need backup at the manor."

Ron snorted. "You know he won't leave the house."

"And we have to be careful not to make him suspicious with us being gone and new people coming to visit," Hermione added.

"I got it," Ron said. "We'll talk to Hannah and have her tell Harry that she and Calista are staying over at Ernie's for the evening. They've done it before, and Ernie can watch Calista. And then I'll tell my parents that you and I are busy at the Ministry and need to work late, and would they be willing to go over to the manor and have dinner with Harry because he's been having a hard time of it lately."

"That's all well and good," Hermione replied, "but what happens if something goes wrong and we don't make it back, or get back really late?"

"We could have my mum dose Harry's pumpkin juice with a sleeping draught," Ron ventured.

"Which would put him at risk if there was an attack," Draco muttered.

"Draco's right," Hermione said.

"Well," Ron said, looking sideways at Hermione. "Malfoy and I are the Aurors. Maybe you should stay with Harry and let us take care of this. He did say that Malfoy could bring us if he must, but it didn't sound like he wanted us to come."

Hermione opened her mouth to object.

"I think you're both right," Draco said. "Harry has already lost too much. He would not survive if he lost all of us as well." Draco stared at the other two, daring them to disagree. Neither did.

"I hate this," Hermione whispered.

"But if it's Snape," Ron said. "We have to do this. We have to try."

"I know," Hermione murmured.

"That's settled then," Draco declared. "Granger, you will stay and protect Harry. Can you do that without letting on that something is wrong?"

Hermione nodded, sinking into a chair.

"And then there will be three of us," Ron commented, "Hannah, me, and Draco. Just in case three is important."

"I'll talk to Hannah," Hermione said. "I know she'll be willing to help. Then I'll spend the night at home with Harry and tell him you are working late, Ron."

"Right," Draco said. "Now, we need a strategy. Snape said tonight at 8. I think we should portkey in early and check everything over. If it looks safe, we could get in and out before anyone else arrives if it is a trap."

"Do you think the portkey will even work if we go early?" Ron asked.

"It depends on the type of portkey, but it's worth a try," Draco responded.

"I don't like the idea of you two, or three, going without backup," Hermione stated.

"I don't either, frankly," Ron said, crossing his arms and rubbing his shoulders. "But, for whatever reason, Snape doesn't want others to know. And who knows, maybe it was an inside job, someone from the Ministry. In which case, we'd be alerting them that Snape had escaped and where to find him."

"And you have no idea where that portkey will take you. You could end up in a Death Eaters lair for all you know," Hermione complained.

"True," Draco said. "But he'd do it for me. I'm willing to take the risk."

Ron grimaced and looked at Hermione. "You know what it would mean to Harry if we brought Snape back alive."

"I do," she said quietly. "Do you really think it's him?"

"It sounds like him," Draco said.

"The question is, would he give up that information under torture?" Ron asked the room at large.

"I don't think he would," Hermione said. "If it meant putting Harry, or any of us, at risk, I think he'd let them kill him. Or, at the very least, give them a piece of false information so we'd know it was a trap."

"I agree," Draco said. "He's a master strategist. He'd have found a way to slip in a hidden message if he thought it was a trap."

"Into the fire then," Ron said heartily.

Hermione put her head in her hands.

* * *

Hermione felt as though her insides were going to explode. She had sent her husband, and her friends, into battle without her, in the hopes that they'd all return safely with Severus Snape in tow. It was awful being left behind but, as Ron had reminded her, her role was probably the most important of all-keeping Harry safe and whole, no matter the outcome. It still didn't make it any easier, though.

Hannah had readily agreed to help, and Ernie had taken Calista for the night. Arthur and Molly Weasley had joined them for dinner, upon Hermione's invitation.

And now Harry and she sat in the library, reading quietly. It took everything in Hermione's power not to fidget, or pace, or reveal any nervous habits. When a large spark shot up in the fireplace she jumped, then froze. She waited for Harry to notice, but if he did, he didn't comment. Breathing deeply, she went back to her book, or pretended to, anyway.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione lied. "I just don't like it when Ron works late. It makes me nervous."

Harry studied her. "He's an Auror. He's well trained. And he's got a whole team to back him up. He'll be fine."

"You're right," Hermione said with a tight smile, thinking all the while that there was no backup team, there were no certainties in this at all. The only thing she had was the note, supposedly from Snape, hidden deep in her robes-the only thing they'd have to go on if Ron, Draco, and Hannah didn't return.

"I'm sorry he had to work on your first anniversary," Harry said.

Hermione startled. Given all that had happened, she'd completely forgotten that it _was_ their one-year anniversary. "It's fine. Ron said he'll make it up to me this weekend." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If they managed to bring Snape home, that would be the best anniversary gift in the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

"Are you sure you want to do this, Abbott?" Draco asked. "We could leave you here and come and get you if we need you."

"I'm sure," Hannah said. "Harry saved my life, did you know? In the final battle. He cursed a Death Eater who almost killed me."

"It's your skin," Draco said with a shrug.

Ron just looked grim. It was 3:45pm, and they were going to try and portkey in early.

Ron shook out Malfoy's invisibility cloak. It was the best money could buy, but still nowhere near as nice as Harry's. He threw it over the other two and himself as they hunched in front of the portkey.

"On the count of three then," Draco commanded. "One, two, three!"

They were sucked momentarily into nothingness, their bodies squeezed, compressed, the air pushed from their lungs, and then the sensations eased. They spun back into existence at the edge of a forest. Trees were at their back, with fields all around. They were atop a small crest that overlooked a cottage. Wands drawn, all three of them looked around, still crouched together under the cloak. There was no immediate audible alarm signaling their arrival, no waiting witches or wizards with wands trained on their spot.

Inwardly, Ron heaved a sigh of relief. He was half certain they'd apparate into a dungeon somewhere and be trapped there. After fifteen minutes of waiting without moving, Draco signaled for them to stand. Ron's legs burned, but as Draco was the Senior Auror, and he was the one who'd received the letter, it was his mission to command.

As planned, Draco tapped his wand on the top of Hannah's head, then Ron's, then his own. Immediately, they were all disillusioned. Ron pulled off the cloak and handed it to Hannah. She was not even supposed to be here. If the disillusionment charms were discovered by enemy forces, she could still Apparate out under the invisibility cloak. Ron and Malfoy had already thrown in their lot, but Hannah shouldn't have to.

Malfoy insisted on going alone, encircling from north to south around the west side of the perimeter, checking for traps, hexes, and any other magical signatures. Ron and Hannah would check the eastern semicircle. They'd meet in the middle, at the back, and discuss their findings.

Ron was grateful to have Malfoy with him. He still didn't love the git, by any means, but Draco WAS useful. Snape had taught Harry and Draco a lot, and thanks to that, Draco and Harry knew spells that, even as an Auror, Ron would probably never know or master. It was because of Draco that they were disillusioned; neither Ron nor Hannah could perform that complicated bit of magic.

Much to their relief, all was clear when they met up. It would have been easy to relax, assume it wasn't a trap, assume the coast was clear. But that was a dead man's folly. Instead, they made their way to the paddock surrounding the house and debated what to do. It was now 4:30pm, and without knowing the reason for the 8pm time slot, they had to make a choice. Go now and risk someone coming upon them, or wait, and let the potential enemy be ready for them. If it was a trap, it really wouldn't matter when they arrived; no enemy would be stupid enough to wait for a specific time to spring said trap.

And so they stepped forward. Ron had volunteered to give the key, in case the wards were cursed to suck someone in. That way, Draco would still have a chance to go after Snape if Ron was incapacitated.

Ron walked to the paddock, feeling the wash of magic shimmer around him. He put his hand out and found an invisible wall. "Severely hurt," he murmured and, instantly, the outline of a door formed in the ward. He put his hand to it, pushed it open, waited for the telltale sign of magic acting upon the unsuspecting. Letting out his breath, he waved the others forward. They stepped through the wards and the door vanished. Draco led the way, Hannah in the middle, Ron behind, prepared for any attack that awaited them. There were never any guarantees in these kinds of raids; one never knew what the other side had up their sleeve.

When they arrived at the back door, Draco removed the disillusionment charm, his wand at the ready. He knocked three times.

A window curtain fluttered and a small, dark-haired woman looked out. Her eyes were wide, and she surveyed the yard around Draco nervously. The curtain fluttered back into place and the door opened a crack.

"State your name and your business," she hissed.

Draco tilted his head. "Legilimens," he whispered.

The woman's eyes widened and the breath caught in her throat. Draco stared into her eyes intently and then gave a curt nod and released the spell. "I have come as instructed," he said. With that, he opened the door fully and let himself in the house, Ron and Hannah following invisibly behind him.

Quickly, the woman locked the door in their wake.

"You must hurry," she said, looking around nervously. "The sooner he is gone, the better. I don't want any trouble."

Draco nodded and, from his posture, Ron could tell that he was still on full alert, as any well-trained Auror would be. "Lead the way," he said.

She shuffled down a short hallway and came to a dead end. There were doors on either side, but she didn't turn toward them. Instead, she said, "I cannot go any further. Only you can. But you must know the code. The number."

Draco gazed at the woman, who quickly put up her hands. "I do not know it," she said. "I am just a Squib. Please, hurry. Take him away. He isn't safe here. He isn't safe anywhere."

"Wait here," Draco instructed, and Ron knew that the instruction was for him and Hannah, as well as the woman.

Ron was covering Draco's back, while Hannah had her wand trained on the woman in case she made any sudden moves. The woman stood by fretfully, wringing her hands, her head bowed.

Draco studied the wall a little longer and then he tapped three times and said, in his silky voice, "Eight, eight, can't be late." The wall shimmered, glowed, and then disappeared.

Behind it lay a small, lamp-lit room with an earthen floor and bare walls. Against the far wall was a thin mattress with a shape huddled on it.

Ron caught his breath, hope beating strong in his heart. What he wouldn't do to find Snape and give him back to Harry. If it WAS Snape.

Draco stepped cautiously into the room, while Ron stood in the entranceway, his wand ready in case it was a trick. Draco stopped just short of the bed, casting a spell to remove the blanket that covered the lump, tension etched in every line and muscle in his body.

The blanket gone, a man lay in a muddle of dirty, torn robes, unmoving. "Professor," Draco said coldly. "Professor, I need you to look at me."

A groan sounded and the man's head shifted upward, black eyes slitting open. Ron saw Draco twitch, but Draco didn't move any closer.

"Professor," Draco said, his wand still trained on the man, "what did you give me for my eighth birthday?"

"Eight. Cauldron. Cakes," The man rasped out.

Draco's shoulders sagged and he rushed forward, reaching out to the man on the bed. "Severus," he cried.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

"Severus?" Draco asked.

"Broken. Back," he gasped. "Paralyzed. Careful."

"Weasley," Draco commanded glancing toward the hallway. "Guard the door. And the woman. Abbott, stabilize Professor Snape for Apparition."

Hannah rushed forward, scanning him quickly with her wand. "Draco," she said, her voice a shocked whisper. "He's… his fractures aren't stable. I…"

Draco looked at her desperately. "We don't have time. Do the best you can to stabilize him so we can get him out of here. Then you can have all the time you need to work on him."

Hannah looked distraught. "If we move him now, the damage could be permanent."

"We don't have a choice," said Draco.

Nodding, Hannah reached inside her robes. "Professor, I have a couple of potions here. The first is a pain relieving potion." She went to hand it to him, but he didn't move.

"Hands. Arms. Broken."

The woman from the door let out a sob. "I'm just a Squib," she cried. "I couldn't help him."

"Alright, Professor," Hannah said. "Can you swallow?"

"Yes."

"Is your neck injured?"

"Yes. But. Not. Broken."

"Let's see if you can drink this lying down, shall we?" She tipped the vial slowly into his mouth and he tried to drink, but much of it dribbled onto the pillow beside him. Severus groaned.

"Ok," she said. "I will just spell it into your stomach. It isn't as effective that way, but it's better than nothing."

She proceeded to spell a pain reliever, muscle relaxant, and a light sedative into Severus's stomach.

"Hurry," Draco demanded, tapping his foot, his arms crossed.

"Professor, try and relax. I am going to align your broken bones. I don't have time to heal them, but as long as they don't get more misaligned, you should be alright."

Hannah waved her wand in several complex motions, murmuring words that Ron didn't understand. Severus groaned loudly as his body seemed to lengthen, to straighten and stretch out, until he was lying, perfectly straight, flat on his back, on the pallet.

"One more spell," she whispered, "then we can go." Hannah glanced at Ron and Draco. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," Draco said with a nod.

Ron swished his wand in the air at the woman, whispering, "Obliviate." Then he joined the other two at the bedside.

Hannah swallowed. "I'm sorry, Professor, but it's the only way."

Severus met her gaze, seeming to understand, as horror flashed in his obsidian eyes.

"Petrificus totalus!"

Severus's agonized screams followed them into the whipcord of Apparition.

Hannah was already summoning cushioning charms before they'd fully come to a stop so that when Snape fell, he didn't land on the hard flagstones of Malfoy Manor.

"He's critical," she shouted. "I need a place to work on him."

"The dining hall," Draco said. "It's closest."

Ron ran ahead, making sure the way was clear.

Hannah levitated Snape onto the ornate wooden dining table. "He's passed out, but I imagine he'll wake soon. Ron, set out my potions. Draco, try and talk to him. He's going to be hard to handle."

Hannah and Ron worked swiftly, Hannah stopping internal bleeding and healing broken bones while Ron dosed him with potions as directed.

"Blimey, am I glad we brought you," Ron muttered.

"Indeed," Malfoy chimed in. "He's waking up."

"You might need to hold him down," Hannah said.

Draco put his hands on Snape's shoulders and leaned down, whispering to the man as his eyelids fluttered and he moaned.

The next three hours went much the same way, until Snape was resting as comfortably as possible, and Draco, Ron, and Hannah were spent.

"He's stable," Hannah declared, wiping her brow. "He can be moved to a bed now. Hard mattress, though, nothing soft. No feather beds."

Draco nodded. "There's a guest bedroom just down the corridor. Let me get it ready."

* * *

Ron arrived back at the manor at around ten that evening, looking drained but relieved. Hermione, upon seeing him, burst into tears and flung his arms around him. "Harry's gone to sleep," she said.

Ron nodded, extracting himself. "I'm knackered, Hermione, let's go to bed."

Hermione bit her lip, eager to hear the news. But it must be good news, or at least partially good, because Ron came back and he didn't look devastated. "Alright, Ron," she said, "lead the way."

Once inside their rooms, Ron cast silencing and locking charms, and then collapsed on the bed.

"He's alive and we've got him," Ron said, a beefy forearm thrown over his eyes.

"How bad is it?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Bad," Ron said. "He'd be better off at St. Mungo's but it isn't safe. He's at Malfoy's, and Hannah and Draco are looking after him."

"Will he live?" Hermione asked.

"Looks like," Ron replied. "But he may never walk again."

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, Ron…" she said. "That's awful. Snape, he wouldn't…"

"He's a proud man," Ron observed. "I don't think he'd want to live that way."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. "That's why he didn't want Harry to know," Hermione reasoned. "He didn't want Harry to see him like that."

"That would be my guess," Ron replied.

"Is there anything that can be done?" Hermione asked.

"Hannah's working on it. That's all I know. She fixed up everything that could be fixed, and he's resting comfortably. He's not awake yet."

"How did he escape, anyway?"

"He says one of his jailers had a change of heart. Says she stunned the other two and took him to her sister's. Left him in her charge. The sister's a Squib, though, so not much help there. But she did write that letter for him."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't even imagine." She laid her head on Ron's shoulder. "I'm just glad it wasn't a trap," Hermione breathed.

"You and me both."

"Merlin, I feel horrible keeping this from Harry," Hermione lamented.

"I know, me too. But for the moment, I think it's for his own good. Let's see what tomorrow brings. I won't keep it from him if…" Ron let the words trail off. "I mean, if, if things take a turn for the worse. Harry has a right to say good-bye, if it comes to that. If not, if Snape's stable, then I reckon he can decide the terms." Ron yawned. "Assuming, that is, that he's reasonable. If he's going to be a prat about it, then all bets are off. Harry deserves to know and I won't keep it from him more than a couple of days."

"I agree," said Hermione. "It wouldn't be fair to Harry."

* * *

"Your nutrient potion, sir," Hannah said, handing Snape the vial. "I also have some broth for you."

"Thank you, Ms. Abbott," Severus replied. "I appreciate all of your efforts."

Hannah put her hand on her former professor's shoulder. "You are more than welcome. We all just want to see you well."

Hannah took her leave and Draco slid into the chair beside Severus, reaching out and taking the wizard's hand in his.

"You gave us a right scare, old man," Draco said.

"Watch who you are calling old," Severus retorted.

Draco snorted. "It's so good to see you, sir," Draco said, squeezing his hand softly, conscious of the man's recent injuries. "Harry is going to be so…"

Severus had turned away at the sound of Harry's name. "No."

"No?" Draco asked, releasing the man's hand.

"Not Harry. He cannot know."

"Why not?"

"I…" Severus drew in a breath. "I don't want him to see me like this."

"Professor," Draco moaned. "You know Harry won't care. Hell, he'll be the first to volunteer to be your full-time nurse!"

"Which is exactly why he can't know," Severus decreed.

Draco pondered this. He understood that the man had his pride, but this was ridiculous. It had been three years. "Sir," Draco said carefully. "You can't imagine what it's been like. For us. For Harry."

Severus stared at him in disbelief.

Draco swallowed convulsively. "My apologies, sir. That was presumptuous of me. I am sure your incarceration was a thousand times worse than anything we ever suffered."

Severus looked away.

"Nonetheless," Draco continued, "Potter, well, you know what he's like. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He hasn't been the same since you were taken. At first, he went on every mission, searching for you. When he wasn't with the Aurors, he refused to leave his home, in case some message came from you. And after a while, when we ran out of leads, he just shut down. He hasn't left his manor in two YEARS, sir. It's like he's holding vigil for you."

"Stop," Severus said, his voice pained. His breathing was rapid, shallow. He dragged an arm across his eyes.

Draco looked away, not wanting to intrude on the man's emotions. He squeezed Snape's shoulder. "I apologize," he whispered. "I didn't mean to push. Clearly, you need time to heal."

Severus nodded once.

"I'll let you get some rest, sir. I'll stop back with lunch, alright?"

"Thank you," Severus said, his voice choked.

* * *

Ron and Hermione took their lunch at Malfoy Manor with Draco.

"How is he?" Hermione asked. "Can we see him?"

Draco sat primly in his seat as a house-elf served him his meal. "I don't think that's a good idea right now," Draco said. "Physically, he's better. Emotionally, not so much."

"Oh," Hermione said looking down at her plate. "The things they must have done to him…"

"I don't even think it's that," Draco replied. "Sad to say, but he's used to that from his Death Eater days."

"Then what's the problem?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food.

"He's afraid to let Potter see him. Or maybe he's afraid to see Potter. I'm not sure."

"Bollocks," Ron said. "Of all the things we worried about, Snape not wanting to see Harry wasn't one of them."

Hermione sighed unhappily. "We have to find a way to fix this," she said. "I can't keep something this important from Harry."

"Neither can I," said Ron. "Not for long. Not without good reason. Harry would never forgive us, and I can't blame him."

"Gryffindors," Draco muttered.

"That's it," Hermione said brightening. "It's an honor thing, right? He needs some Slytherin way of keeping his pride and dignity. If he could have that, Draco, do you think he'd be willing to see Harry?"

"Possibly," Draco conceded. "Did you have something specific in mind?"


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Draco strutted into the stables where Potter was doing his morning chores.

"You're going riding," Draco declared.

"What?" Potter said, glancing up.

"We are done with you moping around, Potter. You need to get back to living. We are staging an intervention."

Potter looked at Draco as if the man had lost his mind.

"Weasley wanted to take you into town, but I declared that riding Penny here should be the first step. Closer to home and all that."

Potter shook his head and went back to filling Penny's water bucket.

Draco began taking the tack off the wall where it had hung for the last three years.

"Malfoy, stop," Potter said.

"Nope. Not an option. You are going to get on that damn horse if I have to Imperio you onto her." Draco stood, hands on hips. "And don't think I won't do it."

Harry looked away, blinked, hard.

"Enough is enough," Draco said, handing the saddle blanket to Harry. "If you don't remember how to do it, I do. I grew up in the stables."

"I remember," Potter whispered.

"Well, get to it then."

"Listen, Draco, I appreciate what you are trying to do here…"

"Potter," Draco said, pointing his wand at Harry's chest. "You know I know how to use the Unforgivables. As you may recall, Imperio was one of my specialties."

Potter ground his teeth, ready to refuse.

"One lap around the grounds, and you'll be free of me. Just. One. Lap."

Potter scowled.

"You know I can be as stubborn as you," Draco said. "If you'd prefer, I can summon the gang. Ron and Hermione were all for coming down here as well, but I thought I'd spare you the indignity. I'm not above summoning them though," Draco said, studying his fingernails majestically.

"One lap," Harry said flatly.

"One lap, Potter, that's all I ask. Then you'll be rid of me."

Potter shook his head, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Then you'll leave me alone?"

"Malfoy's honor."

"That's not saying much," Harry challenged.

"It is when it's coming from me," Draco said pompously.

Harry sighed. He brought Penny out of her stall and secured her. Then he took the saddle blanket from Draco and, speaking softly to the mare, he laid it over her back.

* * *

"Alright, Professor?" Weasley said.

Severus grumbled. "Of all the humiliating, downright idiotic things I've ever agreed to."

"You can thank me later," Ron said, as he pulled black leather riding chaps and boots over Snape's bruised, frail body.

Severus slid his hands over the hard plastic casing that ran the length of his torso and prevented him from bending. "This thing is medieval torture," he complained.

"It will keep your spine aligned so you don't aggravate it while you ride," Hannah replied. "And you know I shouldn't be letting you ride at all, but if this is the only way you'll let Harry see you…" Hannah ground her teeth. "No more than one hour in that saddle, you hear me, Professor? And absolutely nothing beyond a slow walk. No trotting and definitely no cantering! We will not even discuss the g-word."

Severus nodded, his jaw clenched. He raised his arms as Weasley pulled a black shirt over his head, followed by a black riding vest. "I fail to see the necessity of all of this. If only I was allowed to heal first…"

"Which could take months," Ron interjected.

Severus harrumphed.

"I must say, Professor," Ron said, looking him up and down, "you look spiffing."

Severus raised a disdainful brow. "Utterly impertinent…" he muttered.

"I have your dose of strengthening solution here, sir," Hannah said, handing over a vial containing a viscous green potion.

Snape drank it and handed back the vial.

"Ready then, sir?" Hannah inquired.

Severus gave a curt nod.

"Just close your eyes and relax. Don't fight me. I know that'll be hard for you, but I promise that you are in good hands."

Severus nodded again, his lips pursed. He felt his body being levitated into the air over his stallion-who had been beyond himself with glee to see his master-and settled onto the magically enhanced saddle on his mount's back.

Hannah made a few adjustments to Snape's seat, making sure the man had his weight distributed properly and was sitting straight and tall. "How does that feel?" Hannah asked.

Normally Severus didn't even think about getting into his saddle. It was well-worn leather, soft, and perfectly molded to the shape of his body. His uninjured body, that is. Now, he could only feel the barest tingling sensation in his bum, and his legs were completely useless. He couldn't even wiggle into position. He had to trust Ms. Abbott's judgment. Luckily for him, she'd turned out to be an experienced horsewoman, so she knew the ropes. "It is fine," he said.

Nodding, Hannah cast the final enchantments to spell him into his seat. "I've added cushioning, dampening, and shock-absorbing charms. I've also added invisible sides to the seat so that you can feel it around your torso and not have the sensation, or worry, of toppling over mid-stride."

"Thank you," Severus said.

"Lastly, whether you like it or not, Professor," Hannah said, picking up one of Snape's booted feet and fitting it into a stirrup, "I've charmed your horse to act like a child's pony." When Snape's face darkened, she held up her hand. "You are in no fit state to control that hellion of a stallion and you know it," she said, sidling around to the other side of the horse, and inserting Snape's other foot into the other stirrup. "He will look just as regal, and you just as dignified on his back, and Harry's first impression of you will be hale and hearty."

Severus sighed. The indignity of it all was infuriating.

Weasley, who hadn't been around horses, stood back and watched. "Good luck, sir," he said.

Severus grunted. "Anything else?"

Hannah placed the reins in his hands. "One hour," she repeated. "Walking only."

Nodding, Severus held his head high. "I am ready."

Hannah placed her hand on his briefly. In a low voice, she whispered, "It will be fine, Professor. You'll see."

Severus looked away, not wanting her to see the fear in his eyes. Not fear of being on horseback, fear of seeing Harry after all these years. Fear of disappointing him. Fear of not being able to be his anchor in the storm as he had been all those years. Fear of no longer being good enough, able enough, for the man he'd come to adore.

Hannah lifted Snape's booted foot and kicked the horse, slapping it on the rump as it went.

* * *

Draco and Harry worked in silence as they saddled Penny.

"There you go," Draco said. "She's all saddled up and ready to go."

Harry hesitated.

"One lap," Draco encouraged. "You fought Lord Voldemort, Potter, you can ride a lap on a horse.

Resigned, face closed off, Harry mounted the mare. She snorted loudly and tossed her head. "Easy girl," Harry soothed, rubbing her neck.

He gave one last, betrayed look at Malfoy, and then kicked the mare into a trot, heading for the property line to the west.

* * *

Snape's stallion walked sedately to the agreed-upon meeting point at the crest of a small rise. It was ridiculous. His stallion had _never_ walked so obediently or so slowly. One more indignity to add to the pile, Severus thought. All he had to do was guide him to the peak of the small hill and wait for Harry to see him, to come to him. One small step, Draco had reminded him, repeatedly, earlier that day. Severus wondered what sort of luck Draco was having getting Harry on his horse. If Harry hadn't ridden since Severus had been kidnapped, he imagined it wouldn't be an easy task.

He breathed in the crisp clean air, pines, and heather. The sight of fresh green grass blowing gracefully in the breeze was a welcome assault on his senses. All those endless days and nights in that dark cell seemed to drift away, locked tightly in the recesses of his mind, likely to resurface only in dreams. He was free now. Terrified, but free. How many times had he wished for another chance with Harry? Just one more chance. It was a chance he thought he'd never have, and now here he was. Yet he felt more like a coward now than ever before.

He knew, from the brace Hannah had fit him with, that his posture was upright, his bearing perfect. If he tilted his head up a bit, he could look down his long nose at Harry, giving the young wizard the impression that nothing had changed, even though everything had. How long could he keep up the charade? It wasn't as if he could hold onto the illusion forever. And yet, he knew that if Harry found him broken, in body and in spirit, the wizard would never forgive himself for abandoning Snape to his fate, regardless of the fact that Harry had had no part in it. No, Severus thought, shaking his head, this was far better. Let Harry find him appearing strong and whole, let that be his first impression. Let the rest come later. Much later if he could help it, though he highly doubted it.

He pulled gently on the reins, stopping his steed on the edge of the rise, looking out over the fields, waiting for Harry to appear, thinking about all the time they'd lost, then pushing that thought away. There was only now, and the future, and the future stretched before them like the rolling hills gracing his vision.

* * *

Harry nudged Penny up to a canter. It had been so long since he'd ridden her, and it felt a bit exhilarating. That thought racked him with guilt. He had no right to feel free and unimpeded when Sev was, Sev was… Harry swallowed against the lump in this throat. Wherever Sev was, imprisoned or dead, he wasn't free. Not like this. Harry had half a mind to turn back around but, as he looked over his shoulder, he saw Draco standing in the distance, arms crossed, and he knew the stubborn Slytherin would never let him get away with it.

And so he rode on, not bothering with a gallop. There was no need. He wasn't in a hurry. He slowed Penny to a trot. He'd have never even had the courage to gallop if it wasn't for Severus. Sev taught him how to ride, and how not to ride. In the beginning, he was constantly criticizing Harry for his bad habits. But as time went on, the criticisms fell away and, in their place, a new self-confidence grew, one he'd only ever felt before on the back of a broom.

He'd lost that confidence the day Sev had been taken from him. He doubted he'd ever get it back; he wasn't sure he even wanted it. That confidence came with a price, the invincibility of youth and the blind ignorance of loss. He'd gone through the cycle many times over the war, but losing Sev was the straw that broke the camel's back. He couldn't do it again. Couldn't invest himself in an unsure outcome, only to forfeit it in the end.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled the sweet scent of hay and listened to the birds chirp in the distant trees. Truth be told, he'd missed riding. But it felt like a betrayal to Sev, and so he'd stopped. He'd ride Malfoy's lap today, but he doubted he'd get on again. It just wasn't the same without the man who'd introduced him to horses in the first place.

He rode over the first rise to see a black shape in the distance. Another rider, it appeared. Had the neighboring property finally sold? If so, he hadn't met the new tenants. Or maybe it was just someone from the village who rode here on occasion-he wouldn't know, he hadn't been out this far in three years. Squinting his eyes, it seemed that the rider was not moving, as if he remained there, waiting for him. That was a bit odd, Harry thought. If the man wanted to meet him, why not ride up to him? Perhaps the rider wasn't sure of his welcome on Potter's property.

Shrugging, and in no particular hurry, Harry kept Penny at a trot. As he watched the mounted rider, for there was nothing else to look at other than fields and trees, a sick feeling swooped into his stomach. Black horse, black rider. The straight seat. The regal bearing. Harry shut his eyes and shook his head. He didn't need this now. Didn't need some desert mirage to trick his mind into seeing things that weren't there. Glancing up, a tiny bit closer now, he saw that the horse and rider were still there, unmoving. Was he seeing things?

The horse in the distance dropped its head toward the grass before raising it again, and Harry knew it was real. Not a dream. Not a vision. But that horse, and that man. All black. Both of them. Harry was too far away to make out any details. He felt his heart was breaking. This wasn't Sev, couldn't be Sev, yet every instinct in him yearned for it be so. He wanted to take Penny to a gallop, force her to close the distance between himself and this mirage, force the image to become Sev, the horse to become Sev's black stallion. He shook himself. What would the other rider, who seemed to wait for him, think of a half-crazed madman on a bay mare charging at him at top speed?

The tears came unbidden, blurring the image before him. He put his fist in his mouth, biting down on the sobs that broke free. "Sev," he cried out, his plea lost in the air. "I know it's not you, can't be you, but please… please… I need it to be you."

The closer he got, the more he began to shake. He knew that lithe body, the set of the shoulders, the ramrod straight back. He knew the tangle of black hair-much longer now, and the set of that square clean-shaven jaw.

He gasped and kicked his horse into a canter. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be…

He leaned forward on Penny, kicking her into a gallop, tears streaming down his face as he was sure that, at any moment, this mirage would transform itself into someone else, some random person on a horse who was lost, perhaps looking for directions. And then Harry would have to rein Penny in, pull her to a stop, and somehow explain the state he was in. But he couldn't block out the insanely impossible hope that maybe, just maybe, it really was Sev, his Sev.

* * *

Severus watched Harry approach, his heart beating as fast and as hard as it ached. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing the younger man, for he, Severus, was not the man who had left that night, only to return a broken shell of himself. If nothing else, Harry would notice that, and not all the magic and medicine in the world could hide him from that humiliation. Still, hope was a strange bedfellow and one not easily discarded.

Harry had taken his mare up to a gallop now, his eyes wide, his hands clenched. The wind whipped his wild hair and Severus knew Harry thought he was seeing things. Severus wanted to shout out to Harry, but what would he say? "Long time, no see?" Any words that crossed his mind seemed childish and insufficient. How does one say, "You were the one that kept me alive, every day, every night. You were why I chose to keep breathing. You were the only light in the darkness."

Finally, Harry was in front of him, panting along with his mare. He looked wretched, face contorted and covered in tears, eyes wild. "Sev?" he whispered.

Severus's voice caught in his throat, all thoughts of haughty dignity and momentous first impressions discarded. "Harry," he rasped, his throat aching.

Harry walked his horse to stand beside Severus's stallion so that Severus and Harry were facing each other, their legs nearly touching. Harry's lip was trembling and he looked up at Severus with such hope, and such fear, that Severus had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out.

"You're crying," Harry said, reaching a hand up to brush a tear off Severus's cheek.

"Of course I am, you fool," Severus bit out, catching Harry's hand in his. "I missed you," he whispered. _I thought I'd never see you again_ , he thought but left unspoken.

"But how? Why? Here?" Harry said, stumbling over his words. His eyes were still wide, disbelieving. His hand shook in Severus's grasp.

"I arrived two days ago," Severus murmured.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked, a look of confusion crossing his face.

"I couldn't," Severus choked out, looking away. "I wasn't well." A twinge of guilt echoed through him.

"But you are now?" Harry asked.

Severus bowed his head. He wouldn't lie to Harry. "I will be," he choked out.

Harry shook his head, glancing around. His face fell into his free hand. "I so want this to be real," he moaned. A sob escaped him, and Severus reached out with his other hand, lifting Harry's chin.

"Harry, I…" Severus swallowed convulsively. "I'm so sorry. So sorry they got me away. So sorry I couldn't fight them off." Dropping his gaze, he whispered, "So sorry I left you."

"You never left me, Sev," Harry said fiercely, his eyes blazing as he leaned towards him. "You were always with me, every day, every moment."

"I know," Severus said. "I felt you too."

Harry leaned toward him and placed a feather-light kiss against Severus's newly scarred cheek.

Severus let out a howl of pain. He dragged Harry toward him, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him onto his horse in front of him. Every muscle rebelled, and his agonizing back protested, but he didn't care. Harry was simultaneously laughing and crying as he placed gentle kisses on Severus's nose, eyes, brow, and cheeks, as if assuring himself that Severus was real, before pulling him into a tight, desperate embrace.

When Harry finally drew back, his eyes were still glazed. "I didn't think I'd ever…I thought I'd…lost you…forever."

Severus shut his eyes against the haunting pain in Harry's gaze and voice. "I know," he breathed, squeezing Harry tighter. Then he buried his head in the crook of Harry's neck and wept. He'd hadn't allowed himself the luxury before, except in his very darkest moments of captivity, but this wasn't weakness, this was a cleansing, a letting go of the past, and opening to the future.

He felt Harry's broken sobs in equal measure, his own name echoed in a long procession of pain and relief, curses and endearments.

"Please don't leave me again," Harry begged.

"Never," Severus assured, holding him tightly. "Never again."

*~* Fin *~*


End file.
